“Drop your guns, or I shoot!” the HT warned.
Like his counterparts, the man’s Hispanic accent was thick. Also similar to the newly deceased, this man’s clothes hung loosely on his thin, lanky body. The worn t-shirt and pants covered in small rips and noticeable stains.
Desperate men with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Which is probably what they tell themselves to justify their criminal actions.
It was also what made the situation that much more volatile.
“Come on, man.” Beckett worked to control his breathing as he and his teammates stood frozen in place. “Look around you. The only way out of this is to surrender your weapon and let Mr. Rahal go.”
“I said…” The HT spoke through a set of clenched teeth. “Drop your guns or this man dies.”
There was no way in hell he and his teammates were giving up their guns. Not for him or anyone else.
“You either toss your weapon and stand down, and or you’ll be full of holes before you ever hit the ground,” Digger warned.
The man’s eyes were wild with the urge to fight or flight. Rahal winced as the gun’s barrel was pressed even harder against his skull.
“Sitrep!” Mustang spoke through their comms.
“We’re all good and in the Great Room,” Aleck informed the other man. “Final tango has a gun on the hostage, and we have ours pointed at him.”
“On our way.”
“Copy that.”
Beckett half-listened to the interaction between teammates, his focus more on watching the HT closely. He studied him withan operator’s eye, looking for even the slightest sign he was about to shoot.
“Seriously, dude.” Beckett tried his hand at negotiating a second time. “If you shoot, then we gotta shoot. And if we shoot, there’s gonna be a huge, bloody mess to clean up. And that shit won’t be easy on this fancy white tile.”
“You won’t shoot me.” The man denied Beckett’s claim. “You won’t risk killing the man you came all this way to save.”
“Oh, but we will.” Digger took a slow step forward. “And trust me when I say, we hit what we aim for.”
Doubling down on their promise, Apollo flashed the man a sinister grin, doubling down on Digger’s claim. “If you don’t believe us, just ask your buddies.”
“Probably won’t work, though,” Beckett chimed back in. “Seeing as how they’re all already dead.”
Fury raged behind the man’s dark stare as his focus bounced back and forth between all five men. The gun trembled in the man’s hand, giving away the bastard’s heightened level of desperation. Fury raged behind his dark stare as his crazed focus bounced around the room as he attempted to keep an eye on the multiple threats he faced.
Which meant their plan was working.
If they pissed the guy off enough, he might be pushed to the point of doing something stupid. And when criminals get stupid, they start to make mistakes.
Come on, asshole. Take the fuckin’ bait.
“You can still walk away from this right now if you’ll just lower your weapon and take a step back.” Falcon tried next.
“Bullshit!” Spittle flew from the angry man’s mouth. “I drop my gun, and I’m dead.”
“Well, if you shoot the man you’re holding, we’redefinitelygoing to shoot you,” Slate’s deep voice sounded from somewhere close behind.
Beckett’s lips twitched with the urge to smile even as Digger gave the man in their sights his final warning.
“Last chance, asshole.” The former SEAL was as serious as Beckett had ever heard him. “Drop the fucking gun and let the man go!”
Their target’s frantic stare swept the room once more in what appeared to be a last-ditch search for a means of escape. But there were no such means, and like any cornered animal whose very existence was being threatened, the asshole followed his instinct to do whatever it took to survive.
Beckett forced his pulse to remain steady as their target shifted his hold on his pistol. The slight move was almost indiscernible to the untrained eye. But Beckett’s eyes were those of a former SF operative, and he wasn’t about to risk missing a single fucking beat.